


Clandestine Sleeper

by desert_vixen



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2020-12-29 12:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desert_vixen/pseuds/desert_vixen
Summary: Y/N never intended for this unlikely espionage at Nakatomi to succeed, and is less prepared again for the men who put an end to the party. Could corruption in Nakatomi be the key to understanding the schemes of a criminal mastermind, and will Y/N survive long enough to come face to face with him?





	1. Chapter 1

The Christmas party at Nakatomi was in full swing, though in all honesty, for a photographer who specialised in nightlife, that wasn't saying much. For the most part she was a fly on the wall here, though the odd few executives approached her together for an incredibly awkward staged photo, all smiles forced to capacity and arms slung over necks, even though no one seemed sure how to stand now that they were suddenly in front of a camera lens. 

An hour or so in, Y/N's eyes drifted to the entrance. She snapped the photo on reflex, giggling as she did so. One of the tipsy men lurched forward to greet a newcomer who evidently was not expecting the kiss on his cheek, grinning, bemused as the man continued right on by. Aside from that, an hour or so into the party, the photos were getting so predictable. She had already grabbed a dozen of the decor, the holly leaves, the fountain, the buffet, the atrium from above. 

The woman who hired her, Holly, walked by, warning her with a quiet word, “No photos if anyone gets too out of hand.”

Her eyes were on a man she could easily pinpoint as sleaze stuffed into a suit, downing a coke. His smile was slightly manic. Before Y/N could say a word, Holly was marching off again. Y/N, meanwhile, was bored enough to make good on a certain curiosity someone else had given her, so sidled up to the red flag of a man, not that there weren’t plenty of those present already, given the venue.

“Hi. I’m the photographer.”

“Hi, Miss Photographer. Name’s Ellis, Takagi’s right hand. Well, half the time, since your friend Holly got her foot in the door. You know each other? Saw you talking.”

“She just signed the papers to put me here. I talked more to her secretary.”

“Huh. ‘Put you here’. You love your job with that attitude, huh?”

“Oh, no, I’m so grateful – it’s just I think they’d be way better photos with, like, context, you know? Like I got all the waterworks and food here, but if there’s any, like, impressive… conference room or something, I think it could be good advertising. I know they want to use some photos for PR, so –"

“So you want access to the top secret good shit, right?”

Y/N winced. “Uh, not so, um…”

“Relax, kid, I’m messing with you. I can show you Takagi’s conference floor. It’s new, but he shows it off to guests all the time. Nothing top secret up there, nothing you could access anyway.”

In that moment, smiling back, Y/N wished she was a hacker just to wipe the smug grin off his face.

“So let’s go.”

“Yeah. We could get a mulled wine after.” He lead her to an elevator up a flight of stairs. Inside, she tried not to be too aware of his body so close to hers, and in moments the doors opened.

Here the sounds of the party vanished. Before them were tables of models, completed and in progress. Ellis kept a hand on the small of her back, ushering her around the tables.

“You take your photos, doll. Do whatever. I think you’re talking code, though – wanted to go somewhere quiet, huh?”

“Ha, yeah, why not have a little fun on the job?”

He grabbed her, pressed his lips to hers, caking her lips in slobber before pulling away. 

“Fuck. I need to run something by a colleague, but you just stay here alright? The elevator’s key card only so don’t freak out or anything. Not like you’ll be going anywhere fast,” he said with a wink.

She hoped her smile was convincing. “Right.” 

The moment the elevator doors shut behind him, she swore. She knew executives could get hooked on anything because they had money enough to indulge, but this guy was on the hard stuff. She could feel his hands shaking when he grabbed hold of her, though shady character didn’t necessarily point to the shady business practices a friend of hers wanted to hear about. 

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a nearby mirror, fixed the little smudge of lipstick, then ordered herself, “Espionage over. This was stupid.”

She had wanted to pursue the whim, if only for some entertainment. She sometimes wrote pieces and did photos for a newspaper in her neighbourhood, mostly run by students just out of college. When she told a friend about this Christmas party gig, the friend in question had immediately launched the conspiracy theories.

“You gotta snoop around while they’re there.”

“What? Another corporation into shady dealings? Surely some big paper would be onto it by now. It’s Nakatomi we’re talking about.”

“Well yeah, Nakatomi is rich. Ever heard of buying silence? I know, I know, you think I’m pulling this out of nothing. But they are just too big to have the clean reputation they do.”

“Maybe you’re ‘just’ cynical. Though I may save that last sentence for any guy who tries to touch me without a condom. ‘Just too big to –‘”

“Shut up. Look, I’m just saying, they have a new branch in Indonesia and all the big papers are scratching their heads as to why – economically, it was weird. They claim to be developing surrounding areas, but there was no community around to develop where they’re setting up base. Look, I know you’re an ‘artiste’ and cultured and whatever, and the finances are going right over your head, but I bet you they have some shady assets that would be kept safer over there until … OK, fine, it sounds like a long shot, but if you hear anything weird about bearer bonds – “

“What are bearer bonds? We haven’t all studied history of economics.”

“Doesn’t matter, ‘cept they’re illegal as of recently. They scream tax dodging, embezzlement, ill-gotten profits. Anyway, you probably won’t, unless you pull one of your stunts, get into the pants of someone higher up, get their mouth running.”

“Because of course, I always talk business as a turn on. You want me to be the CEO’s homewrecker – ha!” 

“I mean, that would be something. We all just want a story, pal. If you get me a lead, I’ll figure out the corporate espionage part… but like you say, maybe I am just cynical. It’d make a heck of a story, though.”

A week on, alone in Nakatomi, Y/N cursed herself for following up on it, because this felt like corporate espionage to her, or at least no one would be happy if they stumbled across her locked in here. 'Ellis was giving me a tour.' To add insult to injury, saying that out loud would be humiliating, no matter how true it happened to be. And he was a coke head. What if he just forgot about her up here?

She took a deep breath, pushed the thoughts of getting caught aside. No way would anyone be suspicious, not of her. She just needed to call security, tell them Ellis left her up here taking photos, but forgot to tell her where the damned stairs were. In fact, that was, technically, exactly what had happened.

She snapped a half-hearted picture of the architectural models. One of them was the Indonesia base. The theory had wheedled into her head – she had gone as far as to read up on the construction, not that Forbes offered much by way of conspiracy. 

She heard a sound from below, muffled. It sounded very faintly like someone was setting off fireworks outside, though she didn’t see anything on her side of the building. No one had told her about fireworks, so she hoped it was some other party, and not something she was paid to photograph, needed downstairs. She checked her watch, hit the ten minute mark, and seething, decided to try the phone in the office, thinking there must be a direct line to security. 'Aha, woops, I locked myself into the CEO’s conference room where I had no business being. Woops.'

She reckoned, that she had talked herself out of worse, but it was a close call. Play dumb, she told herself. She found a phone in the conference room, a directive beside it. She tensed, trying to convince herself that it was really, really, no big deal and security would laugh it off, but she needn't have bothered. The phone wouldn’t ring.

“Weird,” she muttered, considering redialling. 

Or I could just go find some stairs. No way am I waiting around for Ellis to get up my skirt.

Again, she had done worse by men, but again it was a close call. Heaving a sigh, she trudged outside the nearest door, wanting nothing more than to stomp down the first flight of stairs she found. Out of this entire building, ideally. Bearer bonds. Honestly, it was laughable that she'd been so taken along. A friend indeed - Y/N had always known them as a conspiracy theorist, and she had pinned hopes on this wild goose chase out of sheer boredom.

A shiver ran down Y/N's spine, as if, instead of being a little creature scuttling around one of the richest companies this side of the world, she was walking home alone at night. She reached for her handbag, clutched her keys, and suddenly around the next corner came face to face with a man lying in wait, who immediately held a gun to her chest, and a finger to his lips. He spoke in a whisper.

“What the hell are you doing up here? You’re the photographer?”

Stunned, she realised it was the man who’d made her laugh when he arrived, caught off guard by a kiss from one of the employees. She’d thought that would make for the best picture. A little messy, human. Now he looked ready to kill her. Thinking it best to be quiet lest she want to end up dead on the floor, she nodded.

He stared at her, lowering his gun. "Name's John. You got any idea what's just happened downstairs?"

She shook her head.

"OK, listen. There are guys out there with guns. They rounded everyone up. I'm not fucking with you, OK? I need to figure out what they want, and I need to - there's someone down there I need to help, OK? So the priority is 'call the police' -"

"Phone's down," Y/N breathed, stunned, thinking 'he is a lunatic and he will kill me here and now'. But would she have heard screaming? She had heard fireworks. She had thought they were fireworks. For all the doubt this man being suddenly barefoot gave her, his voice was level, if urgent. And when she gave him that news, his eyes darted to the corridor she came from.

"What's up there?"

"CEO's office - lounge - conference - I don't know what to call it, but I wasn't supposed to be there."

"Doesn't matter now. Look, you follow me, you gotta keep quiet like a dead person or we could be dead people, got it? You don't, you're on your own. I know you think I'm crazy, kid, but boy I wish that was true instead of this shitshow."

"Where are your shoes?"

"Later. Just shut up and hurry up if you're coming with me."

He moved ahead of her, his gun poised to shoot at a moment's notice. She watched how he moved; the very fact that he carried a firearm indicated he was trained, though in what she couldn't be sure, especially since she wasn't fully committed as yet to his rogue gunmen story, still half believing he himself was ready to be a rogue shooter. However as they drew closer to the door, she heard voices.

“Is that what this is all about, our project in Indonesia? Contrary to what you people may think, we are going to develop that region, not exploit it.”

“I believe you. I read the article in Forbes.” Sarcasm dripped from this new voice, clipped, sophisticated, with an accent she couldn't place. John motioned for Y/N to follow. They walked around the perimeter until they came to another entrance entirely - closer to the conference room itself, though whatever the men around it were saying was lost to the glass. They moved across the floor, crawling under a table. Through the glass she glimpsed moving figures. For a moment, she imagined they were just having a meeting, and John was about to hop up and fire on all of them. Takagi was in the chair right before the glass, after all. An easy target. But ahead of her, his eyes were glued to what little they could see through the glass. His position ahead of her hardly offered more of a vantage point. No sight, no sound, and yet she held her breath. 

'I believe you.' She turned that voice over in her head. Then, with a bang, the glass was red.


	2. Chapter 2

John reacted as if he’d been shot himself, banging his head against the table. Immediately, the two scrambled for the door like lightning – Y/N locked it behind them, and for a moment the two of them were stuck in wait in the corridor as a shadowy figure tried the handle, then dismissed the noise as nothing, or went to look somewhere else.

John motioned for her to follow.

“What the hell is going on?” she whispered, quieter even than him. “Who are those men? Why did they kill the CEO?”

“Looks like terrorism. Not sayin’ that’s what it is, but they’re bloodthirsty enough. They’ve taken everyone at the party hostage – Takagi’s the only one they’ve killed so far, either because he didn’t give ‘em what they wanted or he knew too damn much. Look, we gotta be fast. What you wanna do? Stay with me?”

She couldn’t help but look down at his bare feet. “You… you’re trained.”

“I’m police.”

“Right. So I’d slow you down. You think they’d kill me, if they find me?”

A flash of pain crossed his face, running the possibilities. “I can’t say ‘no’, kid. But they’re more likely to kill me on sight than you. You wanna lay low?”

“Sounds like I should. What should I do if they find me – officer?”

“Christ, kid, just beg and tell them what age you are – I’d believe you were thirteen if it weren’t for the makeup. Play helpless, play clueless, cry like a baby, none of ‘em want to kill a five foot girl point blank – I hope – and you never saw Takagi, got it? You don’t know anything, you just heard gunshots. Now fucking hide, and keep your mouth shut. Good luck, kid.”

“Bye, John,” she whispered, ducking under a convenient desk. This floor was under construction. If they had only targeted the floors below, that could mean the phones were working, or that the stairs were clear – there were possibilities, and if John was planning on making trouble, she needed to go the opposite direction to save her own skin. When next she looked out of her hiding place, she was alone, though an emergency sign pointed her towards the stairwell. She tiptoed over, slipped out, quiet as a mouse.

She held her breath. On the floor above, two men were speaking in German. A door opened, shut. She thought of John’s comment – she wasn’t threatening, which meant, on sight, they would expect her terror, not foul play on her behalf. And he wasn’t sure who they were, or what they wanted, which meant she had to find out what she could, even if only to get herself out alive. Still, she thought, tip-toeing up the stairs, finding a bag unattended. A bag full of ammunition, and what cinema knowledge told her were explosives. Wide open, like a mouse trap.

Still, she thought. This is fucking insane. 

Then she launched herself at it. She assumed the detonators would be very much missed. She grabbed them, retreating to the floor below, propping the door open a little to listen.

Above, they opened the door again, hauling in the bags. She heard the wind, wondered what they were doing up on the roof when all their hostages – and anything of interest, for the matter – were below.

“We’re on the roof, Hans,” said a voice through the radio, making her jump. She thought on following John, giving it to him. She thought of that one speaker out of the armed men, thought he must be their leader.

Detonators could only mean they had planned to spill blood, and a lot of it. 

What could she do, but tell John? But what could he do about it? Surely he was planning on killing them before they caught him – there would be little chance of him getting much information from them that way. Whereas she had the chance, a slim chance, of getting closer.

She sighed, crouching behind a desk, wracking her brain.

It was unlikely they would kill her on sight, he said. That didn’t mean it was out of the question. But she had something they’d soon realise was missing.

That meant she could strike a bargain. But how to do it? She spied an open air vent, a small one, too small for an adult man, and pulled a desk over, climbing up and nimbly shimmying into the crawl space, sliding the detonators through until they were hidden in the gloom. She took a moment to reset the desk, to memorise the scene, to curse her look, duck back behind the desk. Then she took a deep breath, and brought the radio to her mouth, pacing rapidly away from the hiding spot, every instinct screaming at her to go find John, to let him fight it all out, to hide under a desk for the entire night. But she couldn’t keep up in his way – she would have to make her own, ensure, somehow, they wouldn’t kill her on sight.

She held down the speaker button.

“Hello. Hans, is it? I hope your plan doesn’t absolutely hinge on blowing something up, because I’m holding onto something you may need to do that.”

The silence following nearly had her believe the radio had died. Then, after two minutes or so it came to life.

“Well, well. What have we here? Were you a mouse we heard, after unfortunate Mister Takagi met his end? I am so interested as to how you managed to steal away my detonators.”

“Well, if you kill me when you see me you won’t find them. Needle in a haystack.”

“You would have a much better chance, my dear, if you weren’t adding so much trouble to the mix. Floor thirty-five, is it? We turned off the fire alarm, just to have you know.”

She paused, weighing up her options. Letting him pin it to her could ensure vengeance, painted her as more of a saboteur than she was. She was already in deep enough. But a wrong word could get John killed… “I’m not on floor thirty-five.”

There was another pause, but when a burst of sound came through there was laughter from more than one in the room, quickly silenced by their mysterious leader. “Thank you for providing us with some entertainment, but I’m afraid work beckons. Tell me, you sound young – what age are you?”

She blinked, bemused. “Twenty-three.”

“Ah. Your whole life ahead of you. If you don’t co-operate when we are introduced it will come abruptly to a dead end. I have sent my people to both floors thirty-four and thirty-five. If you attempt to hide they won’t have so polite a conversation as I’m having with you now. You may have happened upon a neat trick, but have no illusions when I ask you – who is in charge of this building?”

The question might have been rhetorical, but she wouldn’t stake money on it. “You,” she mumbled. There was another pause before it came to life again. 

“We’re going to be introduced very soon, you and I. I do hope we can be friends.” Laughter again in the background, before his voice was back, colder than ever. “Now stay where you are and stop causing trouble or you force my hand.”

Silence. It felt wrong. Her mind darted in two directions. She could stay, or try to hide herself again. Stand her ground and face the consequences or dig a deeper hole. She cursed her luck, poking her head around the corner of the desk –

“Ah, Marco – I found a mouse.”

Faster than her eyes could follow, the blond man had her by the hair, wrenching her to her feet. Y/N couldn’t control the yowl that escaped her lips as every tendon in her neck resisted, struggling against him as he slung an arm across her body before shoving her forward, grabbing her by the arm, motioning for the other man to follow along. There was no chance against them – the first was tall enough, but the second must have been close to seven feet tall, a lecherous bag of muscle. The moment she caught his eye, she caught more than she bargained for, stumbling and throwing a kick at him when his hand grazed her thigh, grabbing a fistful of flesh. The first man hardly hesitated; he simply grabbed her as she stumbled into him and set her back on course. As well, the second had brushed off her kick as though it was nothing short of a butterfly bumping into a window.

“She is young. Nice piece of meat – and temper too.”

“No fun on the job. His orders.”

Both of them spoke with heavy accents. Italian and German. She had to wonder how they’d been recruited. In a matter of seconds they were down the stairs and back to the party floor, long silenced. She hardly glimpsed the crowd, but there they were, like sheep, penned in presumably by plenty more armed men. The entrance of her escort was quiet, swift - still, she thought she saw someone in the crowd react, gesture towards her, before the door to Ellis' office slammed behind her. Hastily she looked about, or tried to, because the moment the man at the desk fixed her in his gaze her eyes couldn't leave his, ensnared. She was aware her life very much depended on keeping him guessing. 

Still, it was a new impression, compared to the shadow seen through Takagi’s blood, and a contrasts to the brutes who'd delivered her to him. He was as well cut in his tailored suit as any of the top tier executives here. Instead of barking orders and threats as she'd expected, he gestured to the chair across from him. Y/N looked at it warily, looking for the trap about to spring, but slowly went to sit before him.

“Hans Gruber, my dear." He drummed his fingers on the desk, his eyes still fixed on her, giving her a brisk look of appraisal before jumping back to her eyes. "And you are?"

"Y/N," she said, matching the ice in his tone.

"No surname?" he said dryly.

"I don't work here. I doubt it's important you know it."

"Then what, precisely, are you doing here? Besides what's evident - you've taken something that doesn't belong to you."

She shrugged, as if it was nothing. "I'm only the photographer." And I have a contact interested in rumors about bearer bonds, she thought, tempted to say it, thinking it could either keep her alive or get her killed as quickly as Takagi.

Either way, it might have encouraged him to stop looking at her as a mild annoyance. She suddenly realised she'd seen the same look in cats playing with their food.

“Y/N, I have been patient with you. I did say to be gentle to Karl and Marco, but none came on board to handle anyone with care. Still, I was true to our bargain. You aren’t hurt.”

It wasn’t a question. She didn’t answer. He leaned forwards when she didn’t say anything. 

"I don't think you appreciate how precarious that safety is. I don't think you're aware how easily I can arrange for that to change. Where are my detonators?"

She kept quiet. His gaze turned into a glare, a victorious smirk playing on his lips as she flinched when next he spoke. "Karl, check on Theo." He let his eyes drift back to her as Karl left, and she knew there was no way out of a response.

“What are you going to do, if I tell you where they are?” she asked, her own voice sounding almost as small as she felt. The smirk Hans gave her was smug as a snake. 

“I won’t touch you, once you tell me where they are.”

“So you’ll have one of them shoot me in the back of the head? It would ruin your suit,” she spat.

Still he smiled, but he was standing now. “What could possibly give you that impression? Did you hear me count to three upstairs? Oh, don’t worry, I’m not moving so they can, as you say, shoot you in the head. Stay there, Miss Y/N.”

He was standing behind her. She tried to turn to face him, but he forced her to face the window instead, where she could make out the crowd of frightened faces in the atrium below.

“Where are my detonators?”

“What are you going to use them for?”

“I am tired of our little games, Miss Y/N. It’s not a game you can win. You think hiding them from me will keep you alive?”

“No, but it might give them a chance.” She tilted her head, looking up at him. “Plus, giving them to you won’t keep me alive at all, if that’s your grand plan.”

“Clever girl. Be smarter and tell me where you put them.”

He stepped in front of her, sat against the table, and lay a gun between them. It was tempting to try and grab it, and suicidal with an ample firing squad behind her who all seemed to be entertained by the situation. 

“Do I really need to speak to you like I spoke to Mister Takagi? No, but I was told, wasn’t I? Needle in a haystack. Though you don't work here, you seem eager to preserve lives in this building. Fritz, find Takagi's next in command, bring them in here and shoot them in front of Miss Y/N until she gives me an answer or the bodies pile up - "

"No!" Y/N leapt to her feet, and regretted it as soon as she moved, because it gave Marco the excuse to grab her by the shoulder and slam her against the desk, pinning her chest to the wood, his grip so fierce she couldn't lift her head as she struggled. Hans had stood, and she could feel distaste radiating from him as he spoke above her protests.

"Perhaps it’s them I should hold accountable for your actions, without a countdown, without the mercy I showed you – “

“Stop! Please, I'll tell you!"

"Let her go, Marco." 

Realised, Y/N collapsed back into the chair behind her. "They’re – somewhere none of your men will be able to crawl into,” she said with fire and a smile too cute for her own good, but then, not a chance could one of the men fit into that particular vent. It had been on her mind when she chose it. “Down a child-sized air vent. So we’re not done here yet, unless you have a miniature henchman somewhere.”

Oddly enough, for a second, he smiled back, dark though it was. His hazel eyes took on a new level of scrutiny. A dash of conceded respect, possibly? She couldn’t tell.

"Well, isn't it fortunate I'm in the possession of a new..."

The moment ended with a scream from outside. The few in the office made to move into the atrium, find out what it was, Hans throwing a warning look at her as he strode out and slammed the door behind him, his right hand standing guard outside. She took that as ‘stay put on pain of death’, and hesitantly stood a little in her seat so she could crane her neck to see what was going on. They were crowded around an elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader is spiritually a Virgo, specifically that post where it's like 'my favourite word is 'no''. Anyway if I've messed up the floor numbers and it annoys anyone just comment and I'll change it. Marco's a dick. I wonder what will happen in the next chapter? (Lies, I know, but you're welcome to speculate.)


	3. Chapter 3

She couldn’t see a thing from where she was, craning her neck, though it did little good. She attempted to stand, but one of the guards at the door shouted at her in German and she quickly backed off.

Then another man ran to the door of Holly’s office, catching Y/N’s attention – not in, presumably speaking to the man standing guard. She took the chance, slipped out of her seat, kept her eyes on the scene below, saw Hans turn around, sure it was her he looked at when his eyes went directly to the window. Then his eyes darted to the door – the blond man was raising his voice, and she flinched, glancing back to the scene in the atrium, wanting to see what was in the elevator, but a few of the men were still there. Hans was walking back, faster.

The the door burst open. Karl.

He was furious – and coming right for her, so fast she hardly had time to take a step back when his punch landed against her throat, knocking her to the ground, howling in German. She had no air to scream, hardly registering the mix of English and German in his screams of abuse. She just about managed a tearful cry of “STOP!” as he raised his boot to crush her chest –

Hans pulled him away, slammed him into the wall.

“Enough. Your revenge fantasy can wait until we find out who’s up there.”

“He was my only family. I want blood!”

“You’ll have it. Wait until you have some assurance she bears any relation at all to the mystery guest upstairs. When we call the police they’ll spend hours negotiating and you can tear the building a part looking for this man, but until then we do not alter the plan!”

She had struggled to her knees, her neck aching, tears streaming down her cheeks. One of the men grabbed her by the arm, as if she was capable of running away, the wrench only serving to knock her off balance again and she cried out, struggling against the grasp adding bruises to her arm.

It made both Hans and Karl go silent, both looking at her. She flinched as Hans walked towards her, motioning for the man behind her to get her to stand. He looked at her neck as he spoke.

“It seems we have another mystery guest, Miss Y/N.”

She kept quiet, felt unsure she could speak without pain. His eyes found hers.

“Don’t you make a charming mute…”

“I didn’t even see what was in the elevator,” she spat, pain firing in her throat she was sure showed in her face. 

Karl swore again in German, the threat clear enough. She flinched, struggling on impulse against the man who held her still. Hans saw the reaction. He took a step closer and she flinched again, trembling, the grip of the man behind her relenting.

“One of my men has been killed, his body sent down an elevator, a message written in blood across his clothes. Tell me, Y/N, do you know anyone capable of such a thing?”

She shook her head, though the answer burned inside her, his gaze so piercing she was sure he could tell. “You’re the first murderer I’ve met, Hans.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? About a friend, about what you took from me.”

“N-no –”

“Because if I find out you are lying to me I won’t spare your neck. So tell me, did you bring your boyfriend along to the party?”

She shook her head, a tear streaming down her cheek. His eyes bored into hers with such force they might have drilled holes through the back of her skull. When next he spoke that coldness remained, but his calm demeanour was restored. It wasn’t ingenuine – instead, it seemed he had taken a look at his cards and was happy with how they’d been dealt.

“It seems very unlikely you would attempt to fight us, Miss Y/N. All alone.”

She frowned, her breathing steadying, though she winced as she spoke.

“I don’t… see why it should be surprising. Yes, I saw what you did to Mister Takagi… I thought you’d kill me when you found me. That’s why I did what I did, to protect myself. I don’t know who else is up there. And I don’t have a boyfriend,” Y/N added archly. “I was just here doing my job.”

Hans stared her down a moment longer before turning to Karl and the rest. “We stick to the plan.”

“They’ve already changed the plan.”

“The girl serves us in this instance. If she was so sure none of us could reach the detonators, it’s likely her successor will have no luck either. If he does… she’ll be the first to face the consequences. When we know who we’re dealing with, or better yet have killed him, we’ll escort her upstairs and she’ll help us continue as planned.”

Karl’s eyes darted to her again, both he and Hans seeing through her. The difference was there was no mistaking his murderous intent. “Sie lügt. Sie weib, wer es ist. Du weibt es auch.”

“Lass sie sein. Sie ist jung und zu vertrauensselig. Wenn sie glaubt, ich werde sie beschützen, wird sie es mir wahrscheinlich sagen. Wir gewinnen nichts, wenn wir sie terrorisieren. Zumindest jetzt nicht.” 

Karl ground his teeth, unhappy with whatever Hans had warned him, his gaze still predatory. Hans himself strode to the desk, massaging his temples, deep in thought. Released, she gazed about the silent office, dazed.

Then the radio on the desk came to life.

“Mayday-mayday, anyone copying channel nine – terrorists have seized the Nakatomi building and are holding at least thirty people hostage – I repeat, unknown number of terrorists, six or more armed with automatic weapons at Nakatomi Plaza, Century City.”

Frozen, Hans breathed, “Where’s the best place to transmit – the roof! Go – go!” he ordered, and all three of his thugs present barrelled out the door.

Y/N flinched as Hans’ eyes landed on her again, but it was only to motion that she should sit before him at the desk, intent on all playing out over the radio.

“Sir, this line is for emergency calls only.”

“No fucking shit, lady! Does it sound like I’m ordering a pizza? They’ve already killed one hostage, they are fortifying their positions while you’re jerking me off on the radio!”

“Sir, I’ve already told you, this is a reserved channel, If this is an emergency call, dial 911 on your telephone. Otherwise I’ll have to report this as an FCC violation.”

“Fine, report me, come the fuck down here and arrest me, just send the police now!”

A burst of gunfire cut through the connection, and the radio fell silent. Y/N didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath, and when she looked up from the radio Hans’ eyes were on her, gauging her reaction. It was just the two of them. The other men were guarding the hostages.

“Does it hurt?” he asked suddenly, eyes on her neck again. She nodded warily. Her whole body ached after being thrown to the floor.

“He would have killed me,” she mumbled. “If it weren’t for the detonators you would have allowed it.”

“You do me a disservice. Karl’s boot was about to turn your ribcage into – how do you call it? – ah yes, a seesaw. Believe of me what you will, but it wasn’t an act I was going to tolerate.”

“So you would have just shot me. Like… you’re going to, I mean. When you have me find the detonators.”

“What else would you have me do with you? You know far too much.”

He said it casually, as though remarking it was raining outside, not deciding on her death sentence. She shuddered, looking away, standing to wander a little for the excuse to be away from him, and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Not only were there bruises on her neck, there was one on her cheek as well, where Marco has slammed her against the desk, a reddish brown. She glanced from her reflection to Hans, still at the desk.

“See?” he said, coolly. “Not a pretty sight, on a pretty face, poor girl. No doubt you had planned to spend the night with a boyfriend, instead of these brutes.”

“I told you, I don’t have one.”

“Out of all you have said, that I am least likely to believe.” 

The sudden softness was enough to make her let her guard down for an instant, but the bruises in the mirror before her reminded her of what he and his men were capable of.

He did this. There might have been others acting on his behalf, but he did this, and he’ll do worse. 

“You won’t make them vanish by staring, my dear. Come back and sit.”

She scowled, but did as he told her, though she wasn’t happy about it, crossing her arms as she resumed her seat. “I think you’re just fooling them, pretending to be here for terror’s sake. What are you really here for?”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You must realise the more you know, the more dangerous sitting in front of me becomes. I hope that wasn’t your full hand of cards, my dear.”

She bristled, unsure of what was best to say to that, unsure whether it was meant as a threat or as bait. So she changed tack, nodding to the radio. “You’re not worried about the police coming?” 

“Oh no. Why would I worry, with a beautiful woman to keep me company? That said, it’s high time we check whether our mystery guest still lives.” 

He watched her cheeks colour as he picked up the radio. A volley of German was broken by Hans’ own switch to English, seeming not to care what she heard anymore. Or was he still looking for a reaction? “Karl, I can stall the police but not if they hear gunshots. If you lock him in he’ll be neutralised. Karl!”

There was no reply. Hans rose, looking furiously out the window. Y/N rose to follow, thinking the police had arrived. Hearing her, he glanced over his shoulder. “Stay where you are, Y/N.”

He glowered as she came to stand by him, standing on her toes to crane her neck for whatever he was looking at below. A police car, solitary, before the greenery of the plaza, circling like a vulture. She tensed feeling Hans’ hand on the small of her back. She glanced up at him. Meeting her gaze, he paused for a beat before bringing the radio to his lips. 

“Eddie?”

“I had a feelin’ you’d be callin’.”

“Play the security guard to the last moment.”

A few minutes passed, and within them again Y/N drew her eyes from the scene below, finding Hans instead. His were fixed on the ground still, on the police car.

“I hope you have a backup plan, in case…”

“Your choice of language is a great entertainment to me. Are you beginning to root for the side pulling the trigger, Y/N?”

“I… I can’t, you… I mean…”

He looked at her again, sending her heart racing, thinking she could not hope he succeeded. He was the reason there were bruises around her neck. He was the reason she feared for her life. Yet she needed to take a bet on what he wanted to hear, because once he had the detonators there needed to be something else to keep her alive.

“Maybe. I just don’t understand. You don’t strike me as a terrorist; you’re not. So why the explosives? Why do something so terrible, whatever you’re planning to do to the hostages?”

He took a step closer, and suddenly his fingers were at her neck, making her wince, though she didn’t shrink away from his soft touch, his thumb grazing her collarbone before he withdrew.

“This, I regret. But the people out there are highly paid executives in a highly corrupt business. There are no innocents among them.”

“What about the pregnant receptionist? She looks due. And am I innocent then? If I’m no one, as well?”

“You might have been, had you not decided to play games with me. You are bright, but that was lacking in wisdom. Don’t think I refuse to understand. I know you are young and scared for your life. You took a chance; you did it in the most interesting fashion, where others would have just hid away and kept quiet.”

“Would… would you have killed me, then, if you found me in the conference room straight away with Takagi? That’s where I was.”

He had turned away from the window, staring down at her, contemplative. Then, he said curtly, “I enjoy our game of cat and mouse, Y/N. Tonight we all risk crime and punishment. You chose the wrong opponent when you took my detonators, but I thank you, knowingly or not, for keeping them out of reach of whoever has killed one of my men. When I take you up there, we may encounter his body. I’ll be looking closely for a reaction.”

“I don’t want to see any dead body, so whoever it is you can expect dramatics, not that I’ll recognise anyone.”

“You don’t want any at all, hmm? Come, you must want me dead.”

“I… No. I just want you to… I just don’t want you to let any of your men touch me like that again. You, to my surprise, I really don’t mind.”

He smirked. “Oh?”

It had been said in all urgency, quickly, before Y/N had recognised how her words could be twisted, and she had to wonder if he was still playing cat and mouse with her, with that terrible smile. Before she was forced out of silence, the radio crackled to life.

“Cop’s out, Hans.”

“He’s going?” she mumbled, more to herself than to him, her eyes glued to the window. The same officer, a speck down below, had just meandered outside.

“Alone together again.”

“If you insist,” she drawled, hardly believing herself, not knowing whether to wish the officer would realise that all hell had broken loose within the building, or wish that, well, hell would embrace her as his own. 

“I wonder if I do,” he said with that same smirk, leaving her alone at the window and speechless, demanding a status report from someone called Heinrich. Y/N took a deep breath, ready to watch the car drive off. Instead, something hurtled down from above, right onto the car. Immediately gunfire rained down from above and the driver went berserk trying to escape it. Hans was at her side again instantly, his cool dissolved for a moment, gripping her by the elbow as the car reversed wildly out of sight. 

“Was that a body? He threw down a body?”

Hans grabbed both her arms tightly, looking deeply into her eyes. “Y/N, be wise and tell me what you know about him.”

“I don’t. Really, Hans,” she whimpered, breaking his gaze. “I have nothing to tell you.”

“You had best be sure that is the case. Because if things turn sour, I have decided which of my plans to act on. Lie to me and I won’t spare you the pain of it.”

So he was worried, releasing her as his men entered the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Within minutes a cacophony of police sirens filled the air. Up to that point the men had been spit out several concerns in a mish mash of English and German, but the moment the sirens cut in Hans silenced them, settled in his seat, his confidence restored, though Y/N had to question how long it would last, still hovering where he had left her by the window.

“All of you relax, this is a matter of inconvenient timing, that’s all. Police action was inevitable… and, as it happens, necessary. So let them fumble around outside and stay calm, this is simply the beginning.”

A burst of static came through on his radio and he launched forward to take it in his hand.

“I thought I told you all I wanted radio silence until further notice,” he snapped, and froze at the immediate reply.

“Oh I’m very sorry, Hans – I didn’t get that message. Maybe you should have put it on a bulletin board. I figured since I waxed Marco and his friend here, you and Karl and Franco might be lonely, so I wanted to give you a call.”

Everyone in the room was aghast. One of the men at Hans’ side spoke up – “How does he know so much about us?” – but was immediately silenced with a look as again he spoke into the radio, a murderous gleam in his eye for all the smooth talking he responded with.

“That’s very kind of you. I assume you are our mysterious party crasher. You are most troublesome, for a security guard.”

“Eh! Sorry, Hans, wrong guess. Would you like to go for double jeopardy where the scores can really change?”

“Who are you then?”

“Just a fly in the ointment, Hans. The monkey in the wrench, the pain in the ass.”

At this point, Hans halted his line of questioning, barking out orders to his men.

“Check on all the others. Don’t use the radio, see if he’s lying about Marco and find out if anyone else is missing. 

The men moved out again. She was surprised Hans didn’t glance her way once; she knew he was still suspicious, and she didn’t know what to do if his suspicions went so far as to become dangerous in what he would do to get any information at all from her. Would revealing what little she knew of John harm his efforts? It wasn’t as if he knew his plan. She didn’t even know who’d brought a policeman guest here.

Which meant that after she fetched the detonators, she would become useless. What could she do now? Would giving him what he wanted now give her some hope that he’d spare her life later? She couldn’t read him, stepping closer to his desk, now that they were alone in the office again.

“Um, Hans, I –“

“If you are going to act up and irritate me this second, Y/N, current problem be damned, I will take thirty seconds of my time to lock you inside an abandoned office until I have need of you to bring me my detonators without a chance of you being rescued by the inconvenient cowboy upstairs. Sit down and be quiet.”

Rage sparked inside Y/N at the entire situation, and most of all at him for putting her here.

“How dare you?” she hissed, drawing his attention away from the radio. “I stole from you to try avoid being killed by you. Everything I do or say here is to try avoid being killed by you, while your men do whatever they like to me. So don’t you dare speak to me like I’m a child, not while I am covered in bruises, and not while you debate internally over when precisely you’ll execute me!”

He raised an eyebrow, his own rage still there, but still put on pause as he stared her down while she spoke. Then he said, calmly as he had spoken to his panicking men, “Rest assured, I will deal with you in a moment.”

However calmly he had delivered them, his words still sent a chill down her spine. He brought the radio back to his lips, as if she hadn’t said a word, his eyes on the crowd outside, his patience visibly wearing thin.

“Mister Mystery Guest. Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here. Unless you wanna open the front door for me.”

“No, I’m afraid not. But you have me at a loss. You know my name but who are you? Just another American who saw too many movies as a child? Another orphan of a bankrupt culture who thinks he’s John Wayne? Rambo? Marshal Dillon?”

“I was always kinda partial to Roy Rogers, actually. I really liked those sequined shirts.”

“Do you really think you have a chance against us, Mister Cowboy?”

“Yippee kay yay, motherfucker.”

Hans put the radio sharply back in its place, glowering, his eyes immediately finding her as he stood like a wildcat ready to pounce. He reached down behind the desk, grabbing something before standing and coming towards her, as dangerous in that moment as any of his men.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. I believe I promised you a private office, my dear guest.”

She darted away as he made for her, but faltered because where could she go, with the guards outside? Making sounds of disapproval all the while, with immediacy he had grabbed her wrist and was dragging her behind him, the men and the hostages staring as he marched her down the corridor.

“You don’t mean it – you’re just angry because he spoke to you like that.”

“I’m angry because now I have double the amount interfering with my plans, and one of them is at hand talking back after I have been, given the circumstances – beyond generous.”

He pushed her inside an abandoned office. He couldn’t have planned it, wherever he was taking her, and yet he acted like it, but something didn’t add up. 

“Oh, so you have all the keys to the offices now?” she demanded, stumbling as he inside the office one he seemed to have chosen at random, smaller, but not without the Nakatomi flair of decorations and plants all over. What a stage to be imprisoned in.

“When I said I would lock you in, I wasn’t speaking about locking the door,” he said coolly, and drew a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, like lightning choosing to cuff her wrist to a convenient decorative railing of latticework that was connected to the wall. 

“Very convenient. If it weren’t for this ugly thing I suppose you’d have had to lock me to the door itself,” she drawled, but she could hear the fright in her voice, that he’d made good on his threat, that they were more alone than ever, and that he was willing to exert the power he had to put her anywhere, to make her do as he liked on pain of death. The man himself looked quietly furious, but when he spoke he was deceptively civil as ever, and far, far too close, his hand still holding her free wrist in a vice grip, his body almost pressed against hers so that she shrunk against the metal he’d imprisoned her to.

“I wouldn’t try that for strength if I was you, and ruin your skin, and risk my temper again. It won’t be long before I send you up there, Y/N. I want the detonators where I can see them, though you have been a big help in making sure they didn’t fall into the hands of your own side, we’ll say.” He smirked at his own observation and her eyes widened, horror and guilt heavy in her stomach as she shook her head.

“No, I didn’t – I – I didn’t mean to.”

“Thank you, where it’s due. You agree with me, then. If it weren’t for you, the detonators would still be in Heinrich’s bag, with your friend above. I hope you know by now to do what I tell you when I tell you. ‘Like a child’, you say? You’re young enough in my eyes to hardly realise the consequences of your actions, and this little outburst is enough of such poor decisions. If I thought you’d intentionally angered me my punishment would be much more severe. But a child? No. In fact, I think you a remarkable young woman who is playing with too much fire for you to handle. Allow me to help your decision-making from here, moving onwards.”

“Help, what do you mean, help…?” she whispered, and that terrible smile was back. Before she could say another word his lips were against hers and immediately she succumbed, closing her eyes, relenting against the grip of his hand that still held her wrist so that he allowed her to bring her fingers to his chest where they found purchase, tugging at his jacket. With horror on instinct she was on her toes, pressed against his body to keep him with her, afraid he really would leave her in this dark office, afraid he would deliver on every threat she’d perceived thus far, yet entranced by the hotness of the kiss, allowing his tongue to roam her mouth, his teeth to graze her lips. He was holding her, and still held her when he released her from the kiss. It had been quick, and she couldn’t understand it, or why he still held her if he’d only done it to play her for a fool, and still she shivered with pleasure, letting out a shaky gasp as his hand roamed through her hair, his chin atop her head.

“Wonderful kisser. Wonderful perfume,” he murmured, and stepped away from her, striding back to his base of operations, and leaving Y/N reeling.

“You’re just going to leave me here?!”

“How else will you learn?” he shot back, glancing at her as he slammed the door behind him, and she was thankful he didn’t catch sight of the confused, frightened tears brimming in her eyes. 

His men caught the traces, however. Two of them arrived not ten minutes later, one of them with the keys, releasing her wrist only to grab her as Hans had to drag her from the room.

“Oh, I haven’t been man-handled by you two yet,” she spat, to mask any trace of tears, though she was sure her eyes were red. “What a delight. Will everyone get a turn?”

“Quiet,” growled one, pushing her forwards so that she almost fell flat against the stairs. “You will take us to the detonators and hand them over, fast. Hans says he’ll see you soon, but if you fight against us we have full permission to shoot you in the leg. Then you’re really useless.”

“Ow. I heard you, you don’t have to twist my arm!” she was shouting, hoping the one person in the building who would keep the detonators from hurting the hostages would hear her and come running.

And they were afraid. She understood some French, and it looked like they knew what she was doing.

“Ferme sa bouche.”

“Comme Hans le veux faire?”

“Je suis sérieux, le batarde pouvait l’entendre et c’est probablement ce que la chienne veut avec ses cris.”

Hardly a way to speak about a lady, Y/N thought, and opened her mouth to scream, but one of the men caught her eye and they both knew what she was prepared to do. He raised his gun, still taking the stairs so quickly she could hardly keep up. All the while her mind was racing. If luck went her way, John would appear, kill them, take the detonators. But they were ready for him. Did it matter, that he didn’t have them? Or was it more important to find a way to stop Hans from using them, for whatever he planned? After all, if John took the detonators they would hunt him like wolves without relenting. Whereas if he didn’t –

As though trying to watch Y/N’s thoughts, the man at her side growled, “I will shoot you in the leg if you try get that guy’s attention.”

“Oh, and you think my crying when you do will get his attention too?”

“Then I’ll shut your mouth ‘manually’. Floor thirty four, girl?”

She nodded and immediately his he was behind her and his hand was over her mouth. She struggled on impulse, and in response he practically carried her up the remaining flight of stairs, dropping her to the floor. 

“Now where?” he demanded, both of them scanning the expanse of cubicles, trigger fingers itching. She pointed, and made to move a desk closer under the vent, but they pushed her aside, did it quietly, one watching her as she clambered up, the other scanning the room.

In the air vent she paused. Her purse was still slung across her body, and though the space was cramped and she was terrified of setting off whatever explosives they had planted, she squirmed and managed to fit them into the small bag, then called down, “I have your detonators!”

“Quiet. Get back down here. Now.”

No policeman running to the rescue. Y/N’s blood ran cold, wondering what would become of her now. What more could she do? She shimmied out of the air vent, dropping onto the table only to be grabbed immediately.

“Idiot bitch, you think we’re not going to search you all over? Give us the detonators or we’re going to kill you. You want me to search you before or after I put a bullet in your head?”

She looked around desperately, and again they knew what she was doing.

“Looking for a hero? Be happy Hans will let you live if you deliver them, girl. Give me your shoulder bag.”

Hopelessly she reached for it. Not exactly a fool proof plan, and she gave in to the fact that Hans now held all her cards worth holding.

Then, quick as lightning, John ran from the opposite side of the room, firing a shot at the men that they ducked, giving Y/N ample room and vantage to throw her shoulder bag over to him – or she would have, if Hans’ men didn’t realise what was going on. Suddenly a vicious shove jettisoned her from the table and took momentum from the throw. The detonators landed close to John, but directly in the line of fire.

She had to do it, opened her mouth to scream above the sound of bullet fire, trying to stand yet afraid she’d get caught in crossfire.

“They’re detonators! You need to go stop them! Leave! Go, STOP THEM –“ 

He didn’t hear her, or had his own plan. John launched to try grab the detonators.

One of the men launched to shoot at him and she seized her moment, leapt up, threw off his aim by throwing herself at him. It just so happened that instead of finding a pathway to John the gun was still fired, and the bullet tore through her arm in the tangle.

The world exploded in pain, and Y/N was hardly aware that one man was dragging her away, bullets still flying from the other who was advancing across the room. John didn’t seem to get the hint, or thought the shot she’d been caught by had more severe, because he was roaring, returning fire. This time, however, his luck had run out – the man with her took aim, fired, and across the room John’s body jerked with the force of a seizure. Then he fell back, ran for cover, but he was hurt – they had all seen the spray of blood. It must have been bad – he had abandoned the detonators, the black and gold shoulder bag sparkling under the dim lights, almost comical.

“That might kill him,” murmured one, staying with her as the other went carefully to pluck the bag from the ground. “But if he could still run…”

Both of the men looked shocked they’d landed the shot to begin with, group morale having started to buy into the idea that the mystery fighter had supernatural luck in dodging bullets on his side. The silence was broken only by Y/N’s pained moan as they ducked out into the corridor, the detonators at last in their possession.

She sobbed, thinking, this is my fault. If he’s dead – if he’s really… He would have gotten to the bag eventually, used the detonators instead of hiding them. It’s all my fault. And if he’s dead, then…

There was an exchange in French she tuned out, congratulatory, so much so she almost gagged, though she had nothing much in her stomach to lose, bar the gin and tonics from the party. Her escort had chosen to grab her by the collar as well, the strength in the grip such that she didn’t doubt he could fling her down the stairs like a rag doll if he chose too, and with the speed they took the stairs at she had to practically take them running to avoid having her legs kicked from under her. It was hard to manage – and every few steps, a trickle of blood from her fingertips would land on the stairs and her stomach would lurch again. 

She staggered on with them, both exuberant, despite the lights of police sirens outside.

Blood had seeped through the fabric, wet against her fingers. Suddenly, sickeningly, she wanted to be back in Hans’ arms. It was suicidal. Odds were, he was only playing her. Now that he had all he wanted, there was no real reason to keep her alive. But the blood running like a river down her arm was both a warning against it and food for the thought. She wanted him to want her, to spare her the pain he talked about, and what she’d just seen.

Then at last, though it surely took less than a handful of minutes, they were back on the thirty first floor, into the office of Holly Gennero, a TV playing the news by the desk, images of Nakatomi flashing across it, their arrival drawing Hans’ eyes from it. Hans hardly glanced at her, intent at the sight of the detonators, then grinned at the quick exchange in French – they had landed a shot when the mystery shooter appeared, landed it so well that he dropped the detonators trying to escape them.

“Smile Karl. We’re back in business. And they shot him. While we deal with the police he is powerless to intervene.” 

Karl, of course, continued quietly brooding, his murderous gaze again on her. “Why did they shoot her?”

The silence, for a beat, was ghastly. The Frenchman who’d shot her addressed his defence to Hans, who stared at her arm before looking to his men.

“Elle l’aidait et s’est mise sur le chemin d’une balle, a essayé de me faire fuir. En plus, elle a essayé de les lui jeter.”

“Vous l’avez arretée?”

“Eh bien, je devais la pousser hors d’une table, mais oui.”

Hans’ eyes found hers, burning with fury, and she thought ‘this is it’, staring as boldly back, blood dripping from her fingers onto the carpet.

“Let it be a scar of idiocy.”

‘Oh, so I’ll live long enough for it to scar?’ She wanted to spit the challenge at him, an explosive rage at breaking point within her, but with Karl staring at her like that and Hans’ words about as trustworthy as how far she could throw him, with great difficulty she erred on the side of caution and kept quiet. Fuming, she sat in the seat Hans gestured to, watching him as he strode to the window, sudden lights up from below catching his attention. 

“Enough distractions…” He spoke into the radio. “They’ll be coming. Everyone get ready. Theo, you are the eyes now.”

The air was so thick with tension she could cut it with a knife.

“Alright, guys, listen up. T’was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring except… the four assholes coming in the rear in standard two-by-two cover formation.”

Outside, the sound of gunfire tore through the silence, and she wanted to go to the window, wanted to see, though in all likelihood Hans himself hardly had a good view. The light was out from the window – the gunfire must have taken them out. Eyes still scanning the ground, he warned all listening, “Don’t be impatient. Just wound them.”

Another act of mercy, or so she thought, because Theo’s voice soon rang through the radio again.

“Wait a minute wait a minute, what have we here, gentlemen? The police have themselves an RV. Southeast corner… Get over there!”

In the atrium one of the men shouted, “GET THE FUCK BACK!”

The hostages must have been curious too. Even Y/N stood, hesitating only at Karl’s warning glower, a hand straying to his gun holstered at his waist, the world swaying around her as she tried to look, pain radiating from her arm.

“What’s going…”

A great explosion came from outside. Y/N staggered as if she’d felt the force of it.

“Oh my God, the quarterback is toast!” laughed Theo, and Y/N grabbed the arm of the sofa for support, sickened at how elated this voice was at the death toll rising. 

“Hit it again.”

Her blood ran cold.

“NO! YOU STOP! STOP IT NOW! YOU SAID – you said, ‘just wound them’!”

Y/N was hardly hearing her own screams, launching herself at Hans. Karl had grabbed hold of her, without regard for her wound, and she trembled, the pain searing through her rage, even through the circumstance before her. For a second, the edges of her vision went black, too much in pain even to lash out against him, especially since she’d be as weak as a kitten.

“We should just kill her.”

“Karl, nein,” Hans said sharply, glancing at them again. “Just keep her mouth shut while –“

“Hans, you mother-fucker, you’ve made your point, let them pull back!”

“Thank you, Mister Cowboy, I’ll take that under advisement. Hit it again.”

“John,” she breathed, under another wave of dizziness, too light-headed to stop the name from escaping her, and of course, still keeping her from moving, Karl heard it. He flung her to the sofa as Hans uttered ‘fire’ and another explosion came from below, the same as the last, and she cried out, the barrel of the gun at her chin.

“You do know him,” he growled, on top of her, almost as close to her as he held the gun, and she whimpered, closing her eyes.

“Only from upstairs. It was an accident.”

She realised the whole confrontation was being held too quietly for Hans to hear, still barking orders. It was only them in the office – was Karl enough of a wild cannon to murder her while their leader had his back turned?

“I’m sorry he’s dead,” she said, softly, truly wondering how much his rage was moving him to threaten her, motivating paranoia that somehow she and John had planned out all retaliation against them. “Really. But I have nothing to do with him.”

Instead of backing off, Karl leaned closer again, rage unabated. “But you had information,” he spat. “And maybe you’re hiding more. Want me to cut it out of you? Maybe it’s in your arm…”

His hand tightened on her wound as another explosion came from outside. 

“Hans!” she cried, a piercing shriek, at loss for what else to do, the pain too much, far too much to cope with. Then Karl backed off, standing aside as Hans strode over. For a moment, black spots dotted her vision and she felt sure she would pass out, focusing on the wall. Hans was speaking, German again.

“Ich hörte Sie sagen, dass sie Informationen hat. Sie wird nicht reden, wenn sie in Ohnmacht fällt.”

“Ihre Wunde braucht Stiche. Sie muss ohnmächtig sein, weil sie nichts gegessen hat. Und der Blutverlust. Mitnahme, Hans.”

“Schick Eddie nach oben. Es ist jetzt Zeit, sich um sie zu kümmern. Sie planten nicht zusammen. In der Tat, wenn sie nicht wäre, würde er die Zünder haben… are you falling asleep over there, Y/N?”

“Go to hell,” she muttered, so lowly she doubted he heard her, her knees to her chest, struggling against the pain, eyes closed, yet trying to listen and find some sense in what they were saying. Men were filing into the room, and she opened her eyes, not wanting total vulnerability, not here, when she had so little power.

“And added to that, if you had listened to me he’d be neutralised by now.”

He was reprimanding Karl, seated at his desk. Though Karl, unhappy as a tiger in his cage, leaned over the table. It was unclear whether he would have argued or relented, because another man had entered the room and Hans nodded to him. 

“All of you, take a moment. Either the police will reengage or summon the FBI and determine our course of action. Return to your original posts.”

All went out, except the man he’d nodded to, and as Y/N looked around she found his eyes on her. “Eddie. Take the girl to the office down the hall. Stitches,” he clarified, before returning his focus to the news unfolding before him, unphased that John still lived. Her eyes were on him as this new character led her away, the last she saw of him with his back turned to her, untouchable. And still the kiss on her lips. And still, she was alive, though for what, and how much longer?

Like the pain, it was too much. In the office where she’d been locked to the wall, Eddie switched on the light and led her to the sofa, taking a hefty first aid kit from the bag across his chest.

“Used to be a medic. I’m going to numb the area first, OK? It’s not as deep at it could have been, we’ll clean it just in case.” He held up a water bottle, though he didn’t meet her eyes for long, and she shuddered, still feeling nauseous. “You might not scar, depending… the muscle will heal, you don’t worry.”

“Can I look away?” she mumbled, and he nodded.

For a few minutes there was silence, and when he was sure the anesthetic had kicked in he set to work stitching her skin together, her eyes glued to the wall, though they were getting heavy, and she bit her lip to try stay awake and draw her attention away from Eddie’s movements, and the situation in general.

“If you keep biting, your mouth is going to need more stitches than your arm. Done. Sit tight a sec…” She glanced at him finally, even the shake of her head making her dizzy. He seemed to pick up on it, handing her the water leftover with a quizzical tilt of his head. “You’ve lost blood, so you’re going to feel dizzy. When was the last time you ate?”

The coppery taste of blood was in her mouth like he had promised it would be, and a sudden crash of tiredness seized her body, brought on by the fear and pain, visions of blood and John’s body on the floor. Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

“Mmm…mid-morning.”

“That explains it. Not a good combination with trauma. How about you lie down a sec while I tidy up?”

She did, with relief, closing her eyes, hearing his movements, thinking that Hans would hardly have her would stitched only to shoot her in her sleep. That was what came – she rushed into a wall of darkness the moment her head hit the cushion. 

*

Hans was still watching the news when Eddie came back to the room. A wry, humourless smile momentarily graced his lips at what the presenter was saying, thinking of Y/N, only she very much still viewed him as a threat. He had only confused her.

“Hostages suffering Stockholm syndrome may even be too taken in with the humanity of their captor, ceasing to view them as a threat, particularly if the victim holds the same values. We can only imagine what’s now taking place inside Nakatomi, as police have failed to breach the defences of the terrorists…”

“Hans.”

He looked up, Eddie striding into the room. “Kid’s passed out. I left Franco standing guard outside, in case, you know, she decides to get up and start gunning us down this time.”

The men laughed, morale high now that the opposition upstairs had little to fight them with, the police still regrouping on the ground. Hans gave another wry smile. It was mostly for show, his eyes still on the fires smouldering below.

Eddie approached him, uttering lowly, “She’ll need to eat something. Wasn't kidding, when I said she passed out.”

Hans nodded. “Theo,” he said into the radio. “Any further developments, send updates immediately.”

Then he walked outside, and all the hostages stared as he took a plateful of food from the buffet, all the while thinking of how he could further the situation to his advantage.


	5. Chapter 5

Standing over her body, he felt a swell of remorse, eyes drifting to the bandage around her arm as he set the food on the coffee table opposite the sofa where she lay, watching her all the while.

“Mmm… hurts,” she mumbled as he approached, the movement and the pain it brought rousing her half from sleep. 

“Shhh,” he murmured, a hand in her hair, her perfume faint, mixed in with the smell of blood, sweat, terror. When they broke into the vault and stole their fortune, he could have his choice of women, he knew. But this was a challenge – this was her will in his hands, malleable, her body limp where she lay. All through the night, he was suddenly struck that he had never seen her truly vulnerable, even at Karl’s mercy.

She mumbled again frantically as she shifted her weight away from her wounded arm, indiscernible until a whisper of “Hans” drew him closer to her. 

“Y/N,” he said, softly, softer than he’d yet spoken with her, his hand in her hair drifting to her neck, above the bruise. Her brow creased again and she blinked, dazed, wincing as she again nearly turned to rest on her arm. He let a hand on her shoulder to keep her from hurting herself as he assessed the wound and the bandage, her chest heaving with a deep, shuddering breath.

“Idiot, Alexander,” he snapped, withdrawing his hand.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, gazing at the ceiling, blinking away tears. “He missed my head. Could be worse, I guess –“ She seemed only to say it to stave off a sob, sitting up. He moved with her, sitting beside her, and instantly her head rested against his shoulder.

“Very strange to do this, isn’t it?” she mumbled, half to herself, her chest heaving. Taking pity, he uttered ‘shh’, his putting his arm around her, and she took it as an invitation to lean closer in, her head against his chest. “I just feel dizzy and… crying, I don’t…”

“Hush, liebling, you’re only faint.” She hadn’t seen the food he’d left on the table across from them yet, and as long as she was lucid he didn’t yet want to give it to her. Still, for a moment she didn’t seem to have heard him, then raised her head, her eyes still swimming with unshed tears.

“What’s ‘liebling’?”

He half-considered letting her be, letting her eat, but there was something in that gaze of hers, something in how she couldn’t meet his eyes long that suggested she knew she was in trouble and her cuddling against him was an effort to throw off the knowledge that she had lied to him. It sparked offence – he took her chin, tilted her head back again, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“So you knew his name all along, you foolish little brat,” he said lowly, expecting her to struggle out of his hold, but if anything he felt her relax against him even more, forfeit in her eyes gone dull at his words.

“Upstairs,” she said, wearily. “I went upstairs, with some cokehead exec, and he went back downstairs because someone was paging him. Anyway, thought I heard fireworks or something, and I waited around before I figured I’d be caught someplace I shouldn’t be by someone more important. So I went to find the stairs, since the elevator was a little obvious… would’ve spoilt all your fun,” she murmured, fire sparking again inside her, and he smiled thinly back.

“Quite.”

When she realised he wasn’t going to interrupt, she went on. “In the corridor, I ran into a man with a gun. He had no shoes – thought he was a lunatic murderer out for some purses, that I was dead. But he told me what was happening. He said that he was a policeman, and then I followed him, and we were sneaking around the conference room, and I heard you, for a second, and I saw the blood…” She took a breath, her thoughts running away with her. “I saw you kill Takagi,” she said, with a damning air, her y/e/c eyes burning with a fury into his. “And John, he hit his head off the table, so we ran away pretty fast. I thought for sure I’d fall behind and get him killed, so he told me to hide, but then I was sneaking around and heard your men talking on the roof. Crept up, like a mouse, took what looked most dangerous, and a radio, so I could listen in. Girl’s gotta bargain. Didn’t wanting you just up and killing me, if you found me. But who knows? Maybe John isn’t even his real name. It’s just what he told me. So that’s all I have, Mister Gruber – I’m no one you can use against him, or at all, anymore.”

He stroked her cheek, freshly wet with tears, and sticky with old ones. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I think you’re a thief, Hans. I think you’re here to take everything.”

“And so what? You helped me, unwittingly or not. Think of how you look to the other hostages. And tell me, if your hero wins, how do you think you will be treated by the media, if they choose to air your part in the story? Think, more dangerous still, if the FBI could see you now, with me, like this? Your career, destroyed. You may be under duress, but every action you have made, especially thinking of those made in relatively free will, have played into my hands and against John’s efforts. You kept my detonators from him, after all.”

She was limp against him again, defeated, yet charming as her eyes wandered the room, her words heavy with exhaustion. “So tell me then, before it’s over. There’s a rumour around, about Nakatomi and bearer bonds. Heard it, because I’m friends with journalists, and as far as I was aware no one had put together any damning evidence against them yet. I’m no finance wizard, but I know… companies like this are never ‘good’. But what will you do, Hans, when you get your hands on their riches? It’s a lot of trouble to go to.”

“I’ll keep enough to be comfortable, I assure you,” he said archly, caught off guard by her knowledge. He had to wonder how long she had suspected it for. “Does your friend suspect the same?”

“Him? He’s the one who told me you were terrorists, and I believed him at the time… there’s no going back now, I suppose. Over, for me… only you haven’t killed me yet. What do you want?”

His grip on her tightened, so much so she went along, turning, inches from crawling into his lap, her hands on his chest for balance, her lips so tantalisingly close, and he thought he had her, or at least that she was more with him than against him. He thought of that first kiss.

“Kill you,” he repeated wryly, his hands framing her hair, cupping her cheeks. “Not you. Not an anarchist in the making.”

She was teasing now, a smile playing on her lips as she came closer, pressing her lips to his, a hint of blood on them, a trace of waxen lipstick, and she moaned as he bit down, breaking the kiss. She straddled his lap, and he could feel the heat between her legs, and if only there was time. Still, he could tease, reaching out, up her skirt, grazing her sex before pulling away – she was already trembling against him, hot and soft. Again she pressed her lips to his, hungrily, grinding against him, her eyes alight triumphantly finding him hard.

He grabbed her by the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, closer until her ear was against his lips before saying softly, “I so want to fuck you, right here and now. You’re such a pretty little thing…”

So close, he felt her wince when he drew her close, saw the bloodied bandage again. His hands landed firmly on her shoulders when her head rose, bright eyes hungry, about to plant another kiss.

“Enough, Y/N.”

A ghost of a whine left her lips, and she was far too unsteady when he sat her back on the sofa. He was standing, shaken despite himself, eager to leave her alone, suddenly craving a cigarette.

“As I said, I would like to allow myself to be distracted by you – some other time,” he said curtly.

She laughed, taken aback at how he walked away so easily – she was too much of a temptation, and now she knew where her power lay, her smile was dark and heady as her perfume. “You’re certain there’ll be another time, Hans?”

He turned to look at her again, grabbing the glass of juice from the table where he’d left it, handing it to her, though she eyed the drink and didn’t make to accept it, lips set in a stubborn pout, eyes hard when she found his.

“If you think I intend to harm you when I intend to make good on fucking you senseless, I don’t know what I can do to make sure you don’t faint. Now drink.” He pressed the drink to her lips and she obeyed with the smallest of glares when he didn’t take his hands away, though hers came to cup the glass.

“Think of it as practice. All of it… good girl.”

That got the barest of smiles, and replacing the empty glass, Hans planted another kiss to the side of her neck, this time rough, despite the bruise, drawing a gasp from her lips, prying her hands from his chest to leave, and briefly stroking her hair. Her eyes were on the radio.

"What is it?"

"I was just... won't they call you, if they need you?”

They stared at one another an instant longer. Then he grasped her by the wrist and wrenched her from her seat, pulling her to the desk, breathing rugged, her hips against the wood, his lips on her neck. After all, who could say there would be another time? His hands reached up her dress, found purchase at the waist of her tights. He didn't waste a moment tearing them down to her knees, fingers probing against her clit. She gasped again, back arching against him, though he kept her still with his free arm, pulling her against him tightly.

"Already so wet, Y/N," he murmured, his lips grazing her ear. "I would say keep it quiet, but I want to hear what sounds that pretty little mouth can make... now stay there for me," he ordered, and pushed her firmly down against the desk, undoing his belt.

**Author's Note:**

> This exists because I kind of wanted to rewrite/scrap Classical Education. Obviously it's the same formula but with a bit more intrigue. Basically I read way too much into an analysis of how in the hell Nakatomi has access to so much untraceable currency, which is what Hans is after. If you're curious you can read more on TvTropes, it's under Die Hard in the Headscratcher tab. Reader takes a bit more initiative in this one. 
> 
> Also, if you want me to write quick oneshots/headcanons you can find me of late on tumblr @ hansgruberimagines
> 
> Timing wise in the whole chapter, Holly is full on bitter at every man in her life and is kind of worried Ellis will get out of hand - it's just after the meeting with Takagi and John in her office that she approaches Y/N. (Who could probably get some scandalising photos of certain execs doing things they shouldn't, but you're too much of a class act for tabloids. She hopes. Although seeing Ellis disgraced would be a direct route to his office. She fantasises about this over a glass of gin and tonic so that she doesn't have to think about John and the kids, and what the kids are going to say to John, and to her...)
> 
> I hope y'all got that the 'muffled fireworks' is the gunfire as Hans and co. take the building. Because they rarely hear John killing people off upstairs unless they're on the same floor, I'd think that there isn't much sound travel between the two floors, or in Y/N's case, some that gets mistaken for something mundane. 
> 
> The title is a mishmash reference to clandestine and sleeper cells, both tactics of undercover spies. Since our reader seems to stumble into the espionage business by accident (though we don't yet know just how on the ball the theory is...) it seemed fitting.


End file.
